First leg: From Lopari to Gaz. Winter is approaching, and the sad proaless time has only just begun. To cheer you up, I`m going to follow Janusz´advice, and tell you the story of my voyage along the coast of croatia. One more reason to tell it, is Janusz´claim for it being "historical". Well, maybe he`s right, and it´s really been the first time in the history of mankind, that a small proa sailed along this stretch of adriatic coast. But who knows, what kind of craft sailed there in antedeluvian times?I still don´t owe a camera, so there almost aren´t any pictures or films to witness, and so it`s up to your imagination.The 19 th of august, I built my tent at the outskirts of "Camping Polari[/url]http://www.campingrovinjvrsar.com/de/Campingplaetze/Polari_Rovinj[/url]", a huge campsite near Rovinj, Istria. It was so crowded, that after 1 day only , I got an acute allergical fit against campervans, and fled to settle on the property of Marin, a 60 year old Croatian, living nearby. I had made his acquaintance, when he was hovering around, among a crowd of onlookers, while I was assembling my boat. For a few days, I had to wait for the arrival of my friend Olli, who was to sail with me in the first part of the voyage. So i made some day raids to some small islands nearby. (That´s the fantastic thing about sailing on this coast: there are ALWAYS some small islands nearby). As I was still using (illegaly?) the ramp and berth of the campsite harbour , I had plenty of time to muse on the quality and kind of watercraft, the average camper is taking for his holiday. I can´t say anything about the fleet of small portable kayaks, rubber dinghies and SÜPs, those didn´t stay in the harbour overnight, but were drawn up for the night to each campervan to add to the stuffed, suffocating atmosphere. But on the lawn behind the ramp (swaying to the buoys in the water were many more), lay perhaps 40 motorized rubber dinghies, 10 plastic motorboats, five jetskis (one of them was transported to the water each morning with a ridicoulosly oversized quad, culminating in a rage of shere motorpower, when the engines of both vehicles where sceaming in a PS duet for a moment), and one sailing boat. It was a hobie16, http://www.hobiecat.com/xe/en/sail/hobie-16/ . As the owner curiously asked about the speed potential of "Lili'uokalani", I answered modestly, that I would never be able to catch up with him, to which he agreed in a selfassured way on the ground of his boat being a "Regatta Boat" ? But 1 day later I could savor the grudging respect on his face, after I had been able to draw even a few times, and even to overtake him once, during the day. But I have to admit, that I had been sailing solo, while he with 2 sailors.After Olli had arrived, we loaded "Lili" with tent, sleeping bags, matresses, stove, cooking gear, food, spare clothes, 10l of water, 3 l of wine, 8 l of beer and one ukulele, We left Polari in the afternoon of the 23 rd of august, southbound in a south westerly breeze. After rounding the entrance of the bay, the wind got up to a lively Bf 4 plus and the waves reached perhaps 60 cm. We had to head up on starboardbow, and now it showed, that the boat was rather well loaded. My 68 kilos where mirrored by Olli´s 86, and there was a lot of water coming in. But we had already put in the drain plugs, and put on our wet gear when still in calmer waters. The drainer was gargling along merrily, and Olli, crouched on the outrigger, started to soak after the first few hits. I had told him,that the dryest job on board was to hike out on the outrigger, but his wet clothes were only hiking (sic) rain gear, so he didn´t stay dry very long after all. But the water had 24 degrees, the sun was shining, and he didn´t seem to be concerned at all, though it was rather his first time. The only other time he had been sailing, had been with me , on the bavarian "Chiemsee". So he didn´t knew any better, and the only one around with accelerated heartbeat was me. To be out on the sea, at the beginning of a "big " voyage, allone with the wind and the waves, on such a small boat, that is really something!After heading out straight for about 5 miles , we shunted the first time aiming back to land obliquely, but as the wind started to turn to west, we were able to sail closehauled along the istrian coast , bearing south southeast. The behaviour of a sharp bottom Proa in such conditions can perhaps only be compared to an oldfashioned "longkeeler" . The movements might be a bit "monohullish" , but in an upright way, because both hulls , the outrigger hull, or "ama" being smaller than the big "vaka", meet the obliquely, frontal incoming waves at the same time. So the typical constant yanking and tearing of cats and tris going upwind , because of their windward hull meeting the wave BEFORE the leeward hullI, is missing completely. It goes very smoothly through/over the waves, all the more, if the person, who is hiking, shows some talent in letting the ama just skim.Olli was doing his very best, because we had switched places during the shunt. So he still worked as "hiker", postponing the "sheeting job" for calmer days.We had done constantly 5 to 6 knots upwind sailing, but now, after another 10 miles, as we reached the Brijuni Islands http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brijuni, the wind was dropping to 3 or 2 Bf. I had seen on the auto chart i had with me, hidden deep in the bowels of the ship, that the islands were a national park, but the OSM seachart i was using on my GPS said nothing about it. So we decided, to take the risk and land on the small, inhabited island of "Gaz", to look for a sleeping place. It was really beautyful, deserted, and paradise after the "concentration camping" of Polari. We built up the sail for a tent, cooked, smoked, drank tea, and made a serious attempt to make the ship lighter in reducing the ship´s liquid alcoholic cargo. I remember dimly, that we found a blowhole on the rocky shore, later in the night, where we cleaned ourselves, screaming and laughing in in neptunes breath! To be continued,

[b]From Gaz, Brijuni Islands to the Fenoliga, a small island at the south cape of Istria 18 sm[/u]Once again: I really have almost no foto and no video at all. But has plain reading really become so boring? I don´t know, if a flood of iphone snapshots helps to transmit the thrill of adventure. On the contrary, more often they show a disapointing and colorless reality that has nothing to do with the drama , you remember! I´m no expert, but I think, it takes a huge amount of planning, equipment, time and luck, to create a single picture, that really shows drama. Or do you really need to see a foto of the true cyclope, when you read the odyssey? I learned only later, that our stay on the island of Gaz had been highly illegal. Sailing through the archipelago is forbidden, not to mention sleeping on it !(without paying). The only place, where boats can stay is the harbor of the main island, "Veli Brijun"..When we woke up with buzzing heads, Olli told me of a strange dream: he had seen two national park- rangers and a rat pass us by silently, not to disturb our sleep. This dream proved to be ominous.After a hearty breakfast we got up reluctantly, because we had slept extremly comfortable on a thick matress of long grass, which grew abundantly beneath our sail-roof. It took some time to reload "Lili" after a morning swim and we got away only at 11:20 in a light south westerly breeze. The 2-3 Bf headwind prevailed and allowed as to stroll south east in an easy way, hugging the istrian cost , with 3 to 4 knots, rarely touching the 5. At 14:00, south of Pula, the hunger let us drop the sail and screw out the floor hatches of the vaka, in search of the food bag. We lunched on the drift and soon continued our south southeasterly course, sometimes using the paddle very lazyly to add a knot, when boatspeed dropped below 3. We started to scan the islands, we passed for a beaching spot at 18:00, but it was only one hour later, when we had rounded the last island of Istria, south of the southermost tip of the peninsula, that we found a gentle slope of shere rock, that allowed us to land on the island of Fenoliga , after 18 miles of sailinghttp://www.pearlsofcroatia.com/de/kroatische-perlen/inseln/feloniga-teller-premantura-pula/. We had encountered an astonishing counter current of about 2 knots between the cape and the island, and that`s perhaps the reason, which made us pull the boat extra high up the dry. Also we had landed on the eastern shore and my "Windfinder SMS" foretold a change to force 5 to 6 out of the noth east during the night and the next day. And that´s why we chose a windsheltered place on the westshore for sleeping, where we cooked our evening meal: Dry soup- alas! But we improved it with some noodles and herbs, we still had left. But what we lacked totally by now, was beer. Only one miserable tin cup of wine helped us gulp down the soup. As predicted, the wind started to change and get up after midnight, and in the early morning we were even awakened by a few drops of rain. We hadn´t bothered to put up the tent, but quickly covered ourselves with the unbuilt tent and a plastic sheet, and thus were able to sleep on, till the sky was blue again!

GPS track Gaz to Fenoliga

Fenoliga. Looks like a beach, but is a continuous slope of shere rock

Camp on Fenoliga. A good inflatable matress helps. E book reader makes it lighter.

Although breakfast had become very simple in the morning of the 25 th of august 14 , again we did´t get off earlyer than 11:00 , because swimming, loading, trimming, checking the boat and putting on our wet clothes plus life jackets took time. A host of whitecaps was rolling in , about 80 cm high, whipped up overnight by 5 to 6 Bf, blowing steadyly from northeast.And that was the direction, we planned to sail to, northeast, up the bay of Medulin, to contact civilisation . I held the rocking boat in the swell, while Olli clambered up to his position on the outrigger. Then I pushed it into the waves and hopped aboard to sheet in hastyly: Off we went closehauled, carving the steep waves with 5 to 6, sometimes even 7 knots. But the fun lasted only ten minutes, ´till "Lili" got to grinding halt, when the vaka burried itself completely in a wave, which filled the cockpit to the brim. She could still sail like that, no problem, though the exta 100 kilos made her a bit sluggish, but her freeboard was so low then, that the drainers couldn´t bail out the boat untill the next wave filled it up again. So I opened the sheet,"parked" the Proa (this type of boat keeps its position ama to windward by itself) , and waited, till the water had run out of the scuppers. It took some time, because the drainers work much faster, when they suck out the water with underpressure, created by boatspeed. And onward we ploughed, but this time I took care, to ease the sheet at the impact of the steepest waves, to take some pressure off the bow at that moment. Shurely there was still a lot of water flying, and Olli,when hit the second time like a punching ball, shouted " Thank you!" But he was smiling, the sun was shining, and although the water was warm, it wasn´t filling our boat like a bathtub anymore.After 2 miles sailing east southeast, we shunted to head up to the bay, course north northeast, for another 3 miles. We got close to the shore at 12:00 with a tacking angle of about 100 degrees over ground, then bore away to the west and speeded along the sheltered beach of a huge camping ground with 9 knots. After rounding another head, We shunted up the last stretch to the harbour of Medulinhttp://croatia.hr/de-DE/Reiseziele/Stadt/Medulin?ZHNcMjQ4LHBcNw%3D%3D. As usual it was packed with small motorboats and fishing vessels and even if you saw a vacant lot, you never couldn´t be sure, you didn´t brake some iron local rule, if you took it. So instead of eventually facing a crowd of angry local fishermen lateron, we opted for a muddy, smelly corner of the harbour, where carefree landing was dearly bought by sinking ankledeep into the soft, stinking mud. But right in front of us, there was a restaurant, where we got rewarded for our deprivations by a plate of fried sardines, cevapcici with fries, salad and cool beer. And right in front of that restaurant, there was a supermarket, where we replenished our supplies. As we stepped out of that market, arms full of food and drink, we met some german youngsters, who were obviously away from home without parents, for the first time. They had run out of money and tried unsuccessfully to sell a case of empty bottles. As we gave them a bit of our newly bought victuals, they asked us: "Are you communists?"We sailed out of the bay the way we had come, then turned east and north, following the coastline east of the southern cape of istria . The wind had dropped a lot, and In the afternoon we found a nice beach with a comfortable lawn above, fore a change on the mainland, Again we didn´t build a tent, but slept peacefully under the starry sky.

indeed this was a remarkable tour.To be honest, I am really impressed - by your courage and by the sailing performance of your boat. And I think, I can judge this best having built and sailed the P5 like you some years ago.I admire your courage to sail a self built boat of this size closehauled at 5-6 Bf and in 80cm waves without any concomitant vessel and downwind only hundreds of miles of open sea. That you had no damage under this conditions testifies your excellent manual skills when building the boat and your sailing experience.I am also impressed about the sailing performance. Closehauled 7 knots with two persons and a tackling angle of 100 overground are remarkable figures.

Good luck for the future and I am looking forward for the next part of the report Manfred

"Minutes were always valuable. The wind might always shift, or drop. An hour wasted now might mean the loss of a week. Hornblower was in a fever to get his ship clear of the Gut and into the wider waters of the mediterranean ..." (Forester, C.S. - Hornblower and the Atropos)As I was stirring the simmering chicken stew, I remembered Hornblower, who never ever would have neglected such a good wind, in favor of a good meal! The 26.8.14, we had got under way early and shunted (to "shunt"= Proa- equivalent for "tack" with "normal" boats https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDR2g6Vq4kg) up a little bay, to reach the harbor of Liznjan. There Olli was to leave me and hitchhike back to Rovinj, where we had started our trip. For me, the rest of the voyage would be singlehanded, and the "big" crossing of the notoriously dangerous "Kvarner Gulf" , 18 miles of open water, straight to the east, from the southern tip of Istria to the island of Cres, was looming immediately ahead. The wind was blowing with Bf 3 to 4 from south west, but still I sat here, in a sheltered corner, and cut garlic, tomatoes, carots, resins, onions and chili to pieces, to add to the stew. But on the other hand, we had to celebrate our parting, the chicken- bought yesterday- needed to be cooked, and there was an ambulant vegetable stand nearby, which provided delicious fresh victuals. Finally I added the rice to the pot (only one pot (or stove) meals with such a little boat) and let it cook with a last shot of whitewine. The stew prooved worth waiting, and afterwards we parted good friends. Olli had turned out to be a fearless sailing companyon and the moment was not far away, when I should dearly miss his weight on the outrigger.This was the biggest stretch of open water I had sailed so far with Lili, but the conditions were exhilarating: It was well past noon, as I started to reach along under a clear blue sky, with 6, 7 and sometimes 8 knots, the bow pointed straight to the goal. Out of the south came long, smooth rollers, slowly building up to well over 1,50 m, like a roller coaster in slow motion. Halfway over the bay, at 14:30, I remembered again the famous fictional hero of the royal navy, Horatio Hornblower, as the wind was starting to drop. But unlike a 18 th century frigate, whose only means of propulsion were it´s sails, I still could use my steering oar as a paddle, and keep up the considerable speed of about 2.3 knots for hours. And that´s what I did at the end of the stretch, even if it was not necessary, but I was eager to reach the little harbour of the camping ground of Martinscica. In the end the wind got up again

Beach of Martinscica campground

Across the Kvarner, from Liznjan to Martinscica, Island of Cres, GPS track

and helped along to a dramatic entree as it blew me straight up the beach of the camping ground at 16:30. Word spread like wildfire among the inflatable-captains, that I had crossed THE KVARNER with this incredible craft! They looked with awe upon me, as I strutted up and down the beach, in my salty sailing gear: The hero of the campground!To be continued

Fifth leg: From Martinscica, island of Cres to unnamed cove, close to Mali Losinj, island of Losinj, 25 sm

It was half past midnight, exactly as predicted, when the first gusts of the "bora" set in. I took the Ukulele out of it´s waterproof bag and started to sing the famous shanty "Bound for south Australia". There was no risk of disturbing the campground of Martinscica, because my tent was right by the west-shore, and the bora is a strong wind out of the north-east. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bora_%28wind%29I wasn´t alone, Olli had come back with his motorbike, using the ferry to cross from Istria to the island of Cres, and had brought Gerhard with him. After preparing for them a tomato salad with cheese and onions, we sat around a fake campfire (an open fire is a capital crime in Croatia) ,improvised with a red lamp and stones to imitate glowing embers, and turned to merrymaking and singing.This 28.th of august was my second night on this camping place, because I had decided to wait for the bora to blow itself out, before sailing on. And so it was rather late, when I crawled in my tent to sleep peacefully, blocking out the cracking and swooshing noises of the wind with my undispensable ear plugs.My poor friends, as it turned out the next morning, had slept very badly without tent and earplugs, especially Olli. He had slung his hammock to trees, shaken by the bora. As they moved independently, sometimes his feet and sometimes his head jumped in an umpredictable way. So the mood was a bit gloomy, when they said farewell and left ma alone to decide whether to sail on or not. I walked up to the reception, to pay my dept, and to study the weather charts on the web for a last time.The forecast claimed that the wind would drop to force 5 till noon, and lateron to 4, so I decided to leave at noon, my sailing direction would be south-southwest anyway.Very optimistic I sailed out of the sheltered bay with full sail up, but as soon as the first squall hit me, the ama was yanked out of the water with such violence, that I quickly threw open the sheet and took down the sail again, to bind in the reef. But even with reefed sail, it was a hard struggle to keep the boat upright, and for a brief moment I considered to fight my way back to the sheltered shore. On the other hand , the wind was blowing exactly where i wanted to sail to and I still could run with bare poles before the wind, which I did. Soon it was clear, that the bora had no intentions to die down, on the contrary: steep, fast, braking waves were racing in from behind, the wind was blowing force 6, in gusts even more, and not a single boat in sight. I sat in the back of the Proa, both hands on the steering oar, which was locked in the oarlock, trying to save the boat from broaching, when it surfed down a wave. A proa is built to receive the wind only from one side. When a strong wind catches the sail from the wrong side, the danger of fracture is high. Especially when running downwind in powerful condicions, the risks of "backwinding" are considerable. When there´s no sail up, there´s no such risk.A constant accelerating and braking went on, the speed varied from four to ten knots, even with only the naked mast. Once or twice, as I caught one of the bigger waves just before braking, the speed went up over 13 knots, as I thundered down the wave!First I tried to hold on to the shore , steering south- south east but this course led straight into the fully exposed bay of Ozor, and I soon altered the course to south south west, running dead downwind, to cross the bay and round the north western cape of the island of Losinj perhaps to find some shelter in the lee of the isle.Here is a video of two wharram tiki 26 catamarans running with naked masts in a Bora. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0bu0m9T28EFrom past years I remembered a nice little cove, just around the cape which featured a connecting path to a mountain inn, where i could get a decent evening meal. As soon as I rounded the spectacular cape, the wind got calmer, because the bora had to climb 600 m, before reaching the lee side of the island, but the gusts stayed violent. Also I wasn´t alone anymore, a flotilla of four sea kayaks was slowly creeping upwind, close to the shore, and a small fishing boat was dieseling along the coastline. But of the bigger yachts, motoring along by the numbers on windless days: not one! And immediately after entering my well remembered cove "malfredo" the scenery became peaceful, inviting to a prolonged stay. Only the slightest whisper was stirring the air, as I sat on the beach, eating my lunch, my boat drawn up beside me. I still could detect some whitecaps far out, but here, close under the high mountains, the surface of the water was almost mirrorlike. And there, at the the southern end of the beach, I saw the beginning of the path, which led up to the sweet mountain inn "sveti gaudent" http://www.planinarski-portal.org/planinarski-domovi/sveti-gaudent-osorscica/So why didn´t I stay? It was only half past two, the recent toils and hardships were already fading away, and the direction of the wind was... good.So up went the reefed sail and soon I was reaching along the coast with 6, 7, 8 and 9 knots. But all of a sudden the nose started to dive, while the ama rose out of the water! The Bora, wrestling it´s way across the mountains of the island of Losinj, had created a turbulence that grabbed my sail with merciless power: I yanked once, I yanked twice, but the strain on the sheet was so high, that I couldn´t overcome the friction of the cam cleat to release the sail, and head over heels I went into the water. As I surfaced again, I saw the boat floating before me, upside down. "RIGHTEN THE BOAT!" was the one thought, that was filling my brain instantly. A pacific proa is constructed to keep the ama always to windward, as I mentioned before, and so I tried to imagine if the ama would be on the right side , after rightening it, but I was interrupted by :"RIGHTEN THE BOAT!" Were that symptoms of panic?. I climbed out of the water and stood between the two hulls: there was the "capsize line", tied to the ama, tucked away underneath the trampoline, now facing upward. I took the free end, climbed on the vaka, leaned out with all my weight, while holding on to the rope, and slowly the ama started to rise into the air, "Will it be on the right side?", i tried to think once again, but immideately "RIGHTEN THE BOAT!" drowned out every other thought. So I gave up planning and turned to hoping, as the outrigger first rose to vertical- and then splashed down to it´s right position. And the wind was also on the right side! And nothing was broken, nor lost, as I quickly discovered, when I clambered on the boat for the second time. It was only a matter of seconds to sheet in, and be under way again.And what a feeling of elation, strength, almost ecstasy! I wasn´t even cold, the sun was shining by now, the merino underwear beneath my sailing suit was still warm, and soon I was sailing along with 6,7 and 8 knots. At last the wind was going down a bit and after shaking out the reef, I was speeding on with 7, 8, 9 and up to 12 knots, singing aloud and feeling unvulnerable!At 17:45 I had reached the entrance to the bay of Mali Losinj, but this is the biggest town/marina on the island. I preferred to find a secluded little cove, so I turned south again and sailed on another 4 miles well past Mali Losinj. It was already darkening, when I found at last a tiny little beach, just wide enough to pull my boat up, between the rocks. And there was a heap of driftwood with some withered planks, just handy for a makeshift bed in the middle of the rocky slope. After a hot soup I sat with my back against the planks, sipping a well earned second beer and smoking a cigarette. I was talking to a fascinated croatian hiker, who had come down, to learn something about my boat and my voyage. As I related the capsize, I remembered that feeling of near panic, I had felt, and wondered how to handle that in the future. Certainly , the expierience of today would help in similar circumstances, but then the fingers of my hand touched the Ukulele, i had taken out of it's envelope: Isn`t whisteling or singing an old trick, to master moments of doubt?To be continued. Next : The rat